


I See Your Stars Begin to Shine

by ladivvinatravestia



Series: If You Need to Fall Apart [2]
Category: Captain America - All Media Types, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Additional Warnings In Author's Note, Disabled Character, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mutual Pining, Non-Serum Steve Rogers/Winter Soldier Bucky Barnes | Shrinkyclinks, Original Character(s), Post-Captain America: The Winter Soldier, Tattoos, non-sexual nudity
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-22
Updated: 2019-11-22
Packaged: 2021-02-18 00:14:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,405
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21518749
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ladivvinatravestia/pseuds/ladivvinatravestia
Summary: Steve gets a tattoo.  Bucky helps him with after care.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers
Series: If You Need to Fall Apart [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1507961
Comments: 4
Kudos: 66





	I See Your Stars Begin to Shine

**Author's Note:**

> I got a new tattoo last week. This is the result.
> 
> Thanks to [cryptidwintersoldier](https://archiveofourown.org/users/cryptidwintersoldier/pseuds/cryptidwintersoldier) for the beta.
> 
> Additional warnings: Bucky has misconceptions about boundaries and consent; the disabled character has had her arm amputated at some point in the past, and she and Bucky discuss prosthetics; discussion of cancer; standard Winter Soldier trauma umbrella; allusions to past non-con; allusions to past abusive relationships;

Steve stops and turns to face James as they reach the door of the tattoo shop.

“I just want to make sure you’re still okay with this,” he says. “There’s chairs and medical equipment, and sounds and smells, there could be - things that remind you of bad maintenance sessions.”

One of the things that makes Steve such a good handler is that he’s always checking to ensure James can function at optimal levels, but what kind of asset would James be if he let Steve go without backup into a situation where he knows he will be injured? He shakes his head.

As it turns out, though, Steve needn’t have worried, because the tattoo shop is nothing at all like any of the facilities James had storage, maintenance, or mission briefings in. It’s brightly lit and the walls are painted a cheery yellow and hung with Star Wars memorabilia and framed newspaper articles about the shop and its artists.

As Steve greets his artist, a woman named Kimiko, and confirms the design he’s getting inked, James scans the shop for exits and blind corners, and evaluates the other people in the shop as threats, even though Steve has told him more than once that it’s best to assume most of the people they encounter from day to day are no combat threat at all.

There are several techs -- no, artists -- all in casual attire, jeans and t-shirts or button-ups. Most are, predictably, fully covered in tattoos. The only other customer, a woman in perhaps her late 40s, is at the bench directly next to Steve’s, shrugging one-handedly out of a frilly black cardigan. Once she gets it off, James can see that her left arm, like his, has been amputated above the elbow. She sees him looking and mistakes his intention.

“Something wrong?” she asks.

In response, he holds up his own prosthetic arm and her expression changes.

“Wow, that’s nice,” she says, coming over to take a closer look at it. “Is it Stark Tech?”

Oh. She’s asking him a direct question. Steve has given him permission -- no, encouraged him -- to speak with other people. That doesn’t mean he feels very confident about it, even if he has memories that he once breezed through social situations.

“Russian,” he says, and braces himself for correction or criticism from Steve. It doesn’t come.

The woman reaches for his prosthetic with her right hand, then stops herself before she can touch him. “How’s the functionality?” she asks.

She’s probably not a threat, but just in case she is he decides not to tell her that it’s strong enough to rip the steering wheel out of a moving car but also dextrous enough to slide a blade cleanly between two vertebrae.

“Pretty good,” he says. Again, no correction or intervention from Steve. Even though this has been the pattern now for all of his interactions with other people, it still feels novel when he’s allowed to express his own opinions.

“I’ve been through so many different prosthetics,” she sighs. “None of them does everything I need it to. They all fit too tight, or too loose, or they leave me with eczema. But hey, I’ve been cancer-free for five years now, so it could be much worse.”

“Fuck cancer,” Steve says feelingly.

The woman looks momentarily taken aback by the language, but then she smiles. “Indeed,” she agrees, before heading back to where her own tattoo artist is waiting for her.

Steve has now taken his shirt off and is lying face down on the bench while Kimiko transfers today’s design to his shoulder blade. Some of James’ previous handlers have had tattoos, but none of them have had quite as many as Steve, and he certainly hasn’t ever felt the urge to touch or trace the tattoos of his other handlers. In fact, Steve is the only one of James’ handlers that James has wanted to touch, even as he is also the only one of James’ handlers to say that he’s never going to touch James without his permission.

Even though Steve has had tattoos before, Kimiko talks him through the process, and James listens closely. If he knows what to expect, he’ll know if the process is going off script and turning into an attack. Which it won’t, because Steve says that it won’t. Kimiko finishes by saying, “And of course it’s perfectly okay for your boyfriend to hold your hand to help you with the pain.”

At this, James feels a pang of anticipation. It’s just a cover story, of course, but it’s one he gets a guilty pleasure out of acting out when it’s called for. Steve gives him a look that clearly says he can bear the pain on his own, but James pulls his stool around so he’s positioned to take Steve’s hand anyway, if necessary. He can think of more than one maintenance session in his past where he would have liked somebody to hold his hand. Preferably Steve.

Kimiko pulls on blue surgical gloves and leans in to begin inking Steve’s tattoo. James notices that she presses down firmly on Steve’s skin before every pen stroke. Would that make the pain more bearable, or at least more easily anticipated? He can hear Steve taking deep breaths to breathe through the pain and decides he might as well take Steve’s hand right away.

“So how’d you two meet?” Kimiko asks conversationally.

“Doing Hydraleaks stuff,” says Steve. It’s barely even an untruth, but it’s still probably for the best that Steve is face down on the table, he’s a terrible liar.

“Mmm,” says Kimiko, and then launches right into what she thought of one of Steve’s particular blog posts on the topic. She and Steve proceed to discuss politics and their respective activism efforts for the next two and a half hours, with occasional forays into pop culture. The only times Steve squeezes James’ hand hard is when he disagrees with what Kimiko is saying, and once when the pen comes close to his underarm.

At long last Kimiko sits back and puts her pen back on its stand. “And we’re done,” she announces. She swabs the new tattoo down with moistened tissue and then takes off her gloves to grab her phone. “You mind if I take a picture for my portfolio?”

“No, go ahead,” says Steve. “James, can you get a picture with my phone, too?”

Steve has trusted James with the security code to his phone, even though it’s an obvious security risk, so he unlocks it and walks around the table until he finds what he hopes is a good angle for a picture. Steve is an artist, he will surely care if James does a less than perfect photography job. He starts taking several different pictures, from several different angles, only stopping when Steve sits up and puts a hand on James’ arm.

“Hey, hey, I’m sure you got something usable. Don’t worry if it’s not perfect, I can fix it in post.”

James lets out a breath of relief and hands the phone back to Steve, who scrolls through the photos with one hand. He’s still shirtless, which is more distracting than it probably should be. James tells himself he’s just looking at the tattoos, which he’s never seen before, even though Steve has talked about them and their meanings. There’s nothing wrong with that, right? On the left, a winged heart that frames rather than disguises the scars from a childhood heart surgery. On the right, a pink ribbon framing a pink rose in honour of Steve’s mother, who’d died of breast cancer. And below that, the number and insignia of the regiment Steve’s father had served in before his death. Which, it turns out, was the 107 th , the very same regiment James had served in so many years before. He’s not sure whether to think of that as coincidence, or maybe as a sign that Steve was always meant to be his handler.

“See, all of these look good,” says Steve, turning the phone screen back to James so he can look. “Too bad we can’t do anything about how the model looks.”

Kimiko has been cutting into a sheet of tegaderm, and now she tells Steve to “just hold still a moment longer,” as she smoothes the dressing onto his skin over the tattoo. “Steve, no, don’t say that, you’re cute.”

Steve twists around to frown at her, and she says, “well, James thinks you’re cute.”

Cute is for kittens and puppies and babies, things that need to be protected because they are harmless and innocent and can’t protect themselves. Steve doesn’t really need protection, he just needs backup when he’s putting bullies in their place. And he may not be physically strong, but that doesn’t mean he’s either harmless or innocent.

“No I don’t,” says James, and now Steve turns around to frown at him. He looks amused, though.

James runs through all the ways he’s heard men’s attractiveness described, and decides that, “You’re smoking hot.”

Steve turns bright pink from the tips of his ears to halfway down his chest and attempts to hide his reaction by pulling on his shirt. James has another moment of anxious anticipation. Maybe he’s really gone too far now and Steve will decide to discipline him when they get home. But instead, once Steve is fully dressed again, he grins up at James and says,

“Flatterer,” before hopping down from the table.

James pays careful attention again as Kimiko walks Steve through the aftercare instructions. It doesn’t seem like there are any particularly dangerous risks, but a good asset should still understand how to provide medical care to his handler. Steve pays for the tattoo, slips the instruction sheet into his messenger bag, and looks up at James.

“Ready? I’m starving, let’s go get some pho.

~~

Two days later, Steve gathers the clean towel and fresh bar of unscented soap called for on the aftercare instruction sheet and the aloe he knows he will need even though it’s not called for and heads into the shower to remove the tegaderm. There would have been a time when James would have asked him for instructions or an assignment while Steve was out of the room for any length of time, but he’s making progress. Or so Steve hopes. Right now, he’s opening up Steve’s laptop, which he’s probably going to use to watch cat videos.

Steve closes the bathroom door, shucks his clothes, and steps into the shower, which is supposed to make it easier to remove the tegaderm. The hot water feels nice on his always-stiff back and neck, so he stands under the spray for a few minutes before turning his attention to his tattoo. Once he’s ready to start peeling the dressing off, he realizes he has a major logistical problem.

“Fuck,” he swears.

Almost immediately, James is right outside the door, ordering, “Status report.”

Steve turns the water off, but apparently doesn’t respond fast enough for James, who says, “Steve,” a tone of some urgency entering his voice.

Steve has had his share of shitty bosses and manipulative romantic partners. He remembers well the feeling of walking on eggshells around people, and he’s sure that whatever abuse James was put through is infinitely worse than anything he himself has experienced. He doesn’t want to be the person James, or anyone else, feels that they need to walk on eggshells around. But at the same time, if he’s jumping to make sure James feels reassured the minute he shows any sign of distress, is he turning James into yet another person whose emotions he’s made himself personally responsible for? He can’t help James if he doesn’t look after himself first.

“Yeah, just a minute,” he says, then towels himself off and puts on his pyjama pants. Letting strangers and casual acquaintances assume they’re dating has certainly let them avoid a lot of very awkward questions, but when they’re alone it’s important to him to keep boundaries in place. Since James has had past handlers take sexual advantage of him in ways Steve probably can’t even imagine, Steve has always made sure to remain fully clothed in front of James and to stay well outside of his personal bubble except when James needs medical attention. Not that Steve could in any way physically force James to do anything he didn’t want to, but HYDRA obviously did a thorough job keeping him under psychological control.

Now it can’t be helped, though, because Steve needs James’ help to uncover his new tattoo. Hopefully it’s enough like medical attention that James won’t feel like he’s also obligated to provide any -- other services.

He opens the bathroom door to find James hovering anxiously. His expression brightens considerably when he sees Steve is uninjured.

“I can’t reach to pull off the tegaderm,” Steve says.

“You need assistance,” James says.

“Yeah,” Steve agrees. “Sorry to ask you to do this.”

“It’s part of my function -- “ James begins, then shakes his head.

Steve can’t help the expression of distaste that briefly crosses his face. James is making a lot of progress, but he’s still holding onto a lot of ideas about his place in the order of things. Steve steps aside to wave James into the bathroom.

“The light’s probably best in here,” he says, “will this work for you?”

James nods, and Steve drops to sit cross legged on the bath mat. James sits on the edge of the tub behind him, his knees bracketing Steve’s shoulders. Steve suppresses a shiver at the proximity and body heat. The truth is, though Steve knows in his head and his heart that James has to be forever off-limits, the rest of his body can’t help but notice that James is a strikingly attractive man. Steve puts his hands in his lap and looks down at the floor. He can get through this without succumbing to any fantasies about what could have been, and if he needs to distract himself he’ll just -- think about baseball stats or the catechism or something.

James rustles the instruction sheet briefly as he reads it, then sets it down and checks to make sure the soap and towel are within reach.

“Ready,” says James. Steve nods. There’s a pause when James must be looking for the edge of the tegaderm most likely to peel, and then he’s putting his hand on Steve’s skin. Steve suppresses another shiver, and he suspects he’s come out in goose bumps.

“Sorry!” says James, drawing rapidly away.

“It’s fine,” says Steve, willing his reactions into check, “just pull it off.”

James starts in again. Having the tegaderm pulled off isn’t that uncomfortable, but it makes a horrifying tearing noise. It has to be removed in several different pieces, but for how well it adhered to Steve’s skin in the first place, it comes off pretty easily.

As James puts the last bits of tegaderm in the trash, Steve shrugs his shoulders a couple of times to loosen up his muscles. As expected, he feels a bit itchy right along the lines of the tattoo, and also the burning sensation of the inevitable rash.

“Rinse with very warm water and soap until no part of the tattoo feels slimy,” James reads from the sheet. “Do not use a wash cloth.”

“Yeah, you’re supposed to just use your fingers,” says Steve, then, “oh,” when his brain catches up with what he’s just said.

James stands up, sidestepping where Steve is seated on the floor, and retrieves the shower head from its hanger. He points it toward the drain, turns on the water, and puts his hand under it to test the temperature. Good, at least one of them is treating this with the clinicality it deserves.

“Bend over,” says James.

Steve bites the inside of his cheek, glad that James can’t see his face in that particular moment. Then he gets a grip and turns to lower himself part way into the tub. He can still feel the hairs on the back of his neck standing up, and it’s not because he’s scared.

“Ready,” says James again, and then he’s smoothing warm, soapy water over Steve’s shoulder with his hand. Steve realizes he is definitely going to need to take a few moments alone in his bedroom when this process is over. After several rinse cycles James is satisfied and tells Steve to sit up. Steve does so, and James pats his shoulder gently dry with the towel.

“Is it supposed to look like that,” says James. Steve can imagine the angry red blotches spreading out everywhere the tegaderm had been.

“Well,” Steve prevaricates.

“Failure to fully disclose medical condition can lead to disciplinary action,” says James.

Steve takes a moment to send truly uncharitable thoughts in the direction of all of James’ handlers. Then he says, “It’s a rash, I’m allergic to adhesives.”

“Contact dermatitis,” says James. “Treat with hydrocortisone cream and avoid future use of the triggering product or material.”

“Except if the skin is broken, when it’s better to use aloe,” says Steve, reaching up to tap the bottle he set out. James carefully spreads the aloe over the rash, then sits back and announces,

“Finished.”

Steve takes a moment to collect himself, but it’s not sufficient time for him to will his rebellious body into submission. He grabs his pyjama shirt, which he’d thankfully had the foresight to keep within reach, and holds it in front of himself to hide his erection before he stands up.

When he turns around to thank James, he’s sitting hunched over on the edge of the bathtub with his head down, his hair obscuring his face, and he’s gripping the edge of the bathtub hard with both hands. Shit. Here Steve has been letting himself feel turned on, all the while James has had some unpleasant memory triggered instead. He’s still not sure what, if anything, he can do for James when he’s having a flashback, but he certainly won’t be any good to James like this.

“Thanks for all your help,” Steve says. “I’m turning in for the rest of the evening now.” And then he flees for his bedroom like a coward and locks the door.

~~

James keeps his head down and his hands on the edge of the tub until Steve leaves. He can’t let Steve see how much the medical maintenance session affected him. Because that’s all it was for Steve, and unlike James’ previous handlers, Steve doesn’t include sexual release with medical maintenance. Or with any of James’ other responsibilities, as far as James can tell. It is possible, of course, that Steve finds James too disgusting, or too disfigured, or too used. That might explain why he is always flinching away from James’ touch when they are alone. But those things have never stopped any of his previous handlers.

It’s a mystery, and one he wants to get to the bottom of. At first he’d been anxious about Steve’s lack of inclination to require his sexual services, thinking it would mean that Steve was about to turn him out to find another new handler. Then, he’d been relieved. It was one less thing to worry about while trying to figure out how to keep his new handler happy. And it had never been a duty he was enthusiastic about, not even when his handlers and their friends told him how good he was at it. Now, though, he thinks he would probably enjoy it. In fact, he can’t stop thinking about it.

He waits until he hears Steve close his bedroom door and lock it. Some day, he may figure out how to show Steve how willing he is, but for now, it’s clear he needs to keep the whole thing to himself.

He makes his way silently out to his couch in the living room. He can hear Steve still moving around inside his bedroom, doing -- he can’t really tell quite what. He makes sure to wait until he’s sure Steve is asleep, then pulls all of his blankets up and arranges them so nothing can be seen of him but the tip of his head and a pile of bedding. Only then does he slide his hand guiltily into his shorts, stroking himself as he remembers the feel of Steve’s skin against his own.

  
  
  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> This got a lot more personal than I expected. Fuck cancer so much, and don’t forget that non-romantic relationships can also be abusive.
> 
> Visit me on [tumblr](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/ladivvinatravestia), where my asks box is always open to prompts.


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